"Lackey, Mercedes - Bedlam's Bard 01 - Knights of Ghosts and Shadows (with Ellen Guon) 1.4" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

"We've brought him. Mistress Althea!"

The heavyset woman, her dark hair tucked up into a clean muffin cap, looked him over with a practiced eye. "Well, then, he does seem truly the scruffiest of minstrels. We can't have this. Before we take 'im over, first we'll need to give 'em a bath ..."

No, not a bath! Not in the godforsaken filthy washing well!

Mistress Althea took him firmly by the ear, pulling him over to the washing well to the vast amusement of the onlookers. "I'll get even with you for this, Susie," he whispered, too low to be heard by the mundanes.

"But not till after I've had a good chance to wash your ears," she whispered back, barely able to keep a straight face. "This'll teach you to clean up your act before you come on 'site."

Eric suffered through having a scrap of cloth, dipped in the well, rubbed over every inch of his face.

Finally, Mistress Althea pronounced him cleansed, and fit for human company. "Now, girls," she said sonorously, "do take him onward to his next stop."

My next stop? All right, who's playing games, here?

Eric let the two girls drag him onward, down the dusty road to the stage where Sunday Mass was in progress.

Father Bob, wearing a Roman collar over his Elizabethan costume, dutifully blessed Eric as the girls paraded him up to the front of Mass. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, Lord, who watches over fools and children, wilt Thou see that somebody please keeps an eye on this minstrel boy? Thank you very much, God."

Eric stared backwards at Father Bob as the dancers pulled him away again. The priest was trying not to break into laughter. Yes, something definitely strange is going on here . . .

The two girlsЧEric realized he didn't even know their namesЧpulled him down the lane, past the glassblower's booth and the stall hanging with dozens of bota bags, directly towards the Kissing Bridge . . .

Now wait just a secondЧ

Before he could react, they were halfway across the bridge, beneath the colorful garlands and ribbons that festooned the wooden archway. They stopped, keeping him trapped between them, and the two dancers kissed him expertly, one after the other.

More than a bit bemused, Eric let them. After his initial surprise, he helped them.

Well, this is definitely an unusual experience . . .

Then they tugged his hands to draw him onward, across the bridge and down the lane to the Laughing Fool Tavern. And there was Beth, waiting with the other musicians by the gate.

Oh, now this is all starting to make sense . . .

The two dancers delivered him to the tavern gate, bobbing a quick curtsy to Beth. "An" here he is, mistress, clean and blessed. And warmed up. As 'twere."

"Why, thank you, my dears," Beth said, her eyes never leaving Eric's. "I do truly appreciate your efforts." She took Eric's arm, leading him into the tavern.

"Beth . . ."he muttered, "I'll get you for this."

She let go of his hand and stepped up onto one of the rough-hewn tavern tables, calling out for silence in a clear voice. "M'lords and ladies, we have here a lad who has been well and truly heartbroken, who spent last night all alone with only a bottle for comfort . . . and we all know that a bottle is a rather cold and miserable bedmate, not like a saucy wench!"

Eric felt himself blushing as the crowd of travelers outside the tavern cheered rowdily.

Beth smiled. "Seems he needs a hand. So, what shall we do for this poor lad, I ask you?"

"Give him to the German mercenary wenches!"